


Only a damn cup of coffee

by Agin



Series: I should... [1]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Angst, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-03
Updated: 2013-05-03
Packaged: 2017-12-10 06:56:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/783141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agin/pseuds/Agin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are some special things Shepard tries very hard <em>not</em> to think about…<br/>Futilely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only a damn cup of coffee

**Author's Note:**

> I hope my grammar isn’t too bad. (Feel free to tell me. I won’t be upset.)

He should go.

As fast as possible without being caught by acting all too suspicious.  
One nod, a short salute and then salvation. Probably not this one he yearns for, but this, which is appropriate. And reasonable.  
He’s Commander Shepard and no pubescent boy who’s lost in his desires. And much less he’s the one just standing inert and _staring_. Being unable to tear his eyes away from this mouth, this throat, this larynx bouncing.

Swallow by swallow.

He isn’t the one to go into raptures because of Major Kaidan Alenko drinking coffee.

_Only a damn cup of coffee._

Shepard’s not like that. Or, at least… he shouldn’t be. 

Light’s dimmed in the Starboard Observation Deck, gentle and quiet like a secret touch. A silent whisper, the sound of a hoarse voice. Throaty and smooth all at once. Powerful enough to dazzle Shepard’s thoughts, to mesmerize him with one word and to tumble him into the abyss, which he neither can escape nor want to.  
At this moment, Kaidan – obviously – isn’t talking at all. But his impact is the very same.

It’s everything about him.

These hands, so familiar with holding a weapon, encompass the paper cup now. Firm and cautious. Without hurting and destroying and being crude. _Caring._  
Just the way it should be in such a peaceful moment.  
Just the way Shepard can’t act any more.

...

All too frequent he is imagining to feel the touch of Kaidans hands.  
At night, when he’s not haunted by dire nightmares, there are those forbidden dreams. Hot breath and naked skin. Fervent touches. Hoarse moans. Tangled bodies. Mellow whispers. Promises you can’t keep.  
And every time he awakens in a bed, that’s so very empty and cold, groping for a body, that isn’t there. 

That’ll never be there.

These moments are almost more torturous than every nightmare, every hidden feeling of anxiety, doubt and guilt. ‘Cause he knows how to deal with the latter. There’s nothing new about it. It’s all Mindoir and Akuze, Virmire, Earth and the whole damn war.  
Shepard knows what’s at stake. Knows, that there’ll be more sacrifices, more victims. The end of the war is uncertain, but _his_ isn’t at all. He has accepted it. And when he starts up from his sleep, soaked in sweat, trying to forget another nightmare, it doesn’t take more than a few deep breaths to remember who he is. No helpless child or desperate civilian. Not even a soldier who carries - despite all the courage in fight and knowing of possible losses – some hope in his heart. The hope to win _and_ to be alive.

He isn’t _John_ Shepard who has wishes and plans for a life after the war. 

He is _Commander_ Shepard. 

Too stubborn to accept a defeat. Prepared to do anything for the victory.  
And in the end, when darkness will embrace him, there’ll be no anguish any more. Finally, everything will be alright.

If only he could ignore those distractions... 

This body. 

This voice. 

This whiskey-brown eyes. 

This yawning void in his cabin.

Sometimes Shepard’s on the verge of breaking the silence, enfolding Kaidan in his arms. Doing, what he yearns for.  
But he wasn’t able to do it, back there, when they fought Saren, when Ashley had to die, so Kaidan could live.  
And he can’t do it now. Even in his weak moments, when he’d wish to give in, there’s something that holds him back. 

Fortunately. 

He has no time and no energy for _something like that_. Whatever _something like that_ may be.  
He has to concentrate on the war, nothing else. Can’t allow himself to be John.

...

But, nevertheless, he is standing here, in the Starboard Observation Deck, in front of him solely the gentle light and Kaidan with a cup of coffee in his hands.

Maybe …

Maybe he should indulge in a physical encounter.  
Just once.  
Quick and hot. Without any obligation. No promises to make, no confession necessary. There’s nothing to confess, anyway.  
He and Kaidan, right know, against the wall. Breaking the spell. Clearing his mind.

_Just once._

It’s a terribly tempting thought. Kaidan could bend him over the back of the couch, hold him down with strong hands and fuck him till they’d forget their names. He could shove Shepard against the big window, open to the stars. Or pin him down on the floor, belly to the hard ground. Or facing the ceiling, his legs and butt up in the air.  
Although Shepard’s the one who usually gives the orders, who never retreats, never shows weakness, he’d always imagined Kaidan to take the lead. It’d be Kaidan who’d take what he needs, who’d give Shepard what he yearns for. The one to be in charge when there’s only the two of them.  
He’d be good at this.  
That’s for sure.  
The dark-haired biotic may not be loud or aggressive, but beneath the surface lurks a power, which is even stronger and more authentic through its reticence.

Shepard feels his body straining. He feels the unmistakable tingle in his groin. Inadvertent. Unwelcome. Dangerously unmasking.  
Nevertheless …

_Stop it! There’s no “nevertheless”!_

Apart from this Shepard not even knows if the biotic is interested in men.

Kaidan releases the rim of the cup. His lips wet and warm and greatly tantalizing. It would just need a few steps to close the gap and taste Kaidan. He’d surely smack of coffee. Or rather, the awful, sickeningly sludge which is called _coffee_ here on the Normandy. But Shepard is eager for finding the special taste among the other. The part, that’s only Kaidan. It must be overwhelming. For sure.

The biotic lowers his cup and turns towards Shepard.

How much time’s past since he set foot in the Room? Probably no more than a few moments. Even though it may feel like eternity.  
And why did he come here, anyway? He has not the slightest idea.

“Hey, Shepard”, Kaidan says and smiles.

And for a tiny second, an atomic fragment of one deep breath, everything seems possible.  
But then reality hits again. It doesn’t help in the slightest, though.  
Shepard’s thoughts are racing. He is caught between the momentum to turn and run in panic and the urge to stand still and sink into those breathtaking brown eyes. So he ends paralyzed.

Kaidan clears his throat. “Shepard?” There’s an inscrutable undertone.

Shepard keeps silent.  
A deep quietness raises and spreads all over the room like a haze. It tries to hide everything, but reveals too much.  
Shepard feels terribly exposed. Every secret thought seems to be conspicuous.

“You all right, Commander?”

_Sure I am._

He coughs slightly, pulls himself together.  
Then, everything is all too easy. He steps back, nods and says: “I should go.” With this Shepard leaves.

The door to the Starboard Observation Deck closes with a hiss.


End file.
